The good news? I’m out of the road and no longer at risk of being run over.
The bad news? Someone else is at risk of being run over—by me.
While I stumble forward, an uncoordinated tangle of off-balance limbs, I’m on a collision course with a sweet-looking old lady out walking her little dog.
Her eyes go wide with panic. Fuck, fuck, fuck. My momentum and tilted body weight are inexorably propelling me forward, and I can’t gain enough control of my legs to change my course.
In an act of desperation, I shoot my arms up as high as they can go to add upward momentum to my jump. I vault into the air, and my leg muscles don’t let me down. I spread my legs and get enough height to leapfrog over the alarmed lady and her tiny tartan-clad dog.
A wave of relief washes through me as I clear them—until I smack face-first into a tree branch on the other side, its heavy burden of icy snow bending it low and putting it directly in my path as I complete the arc of my jump.
The impact stops the forward movement of my upper body, but not that of my legs. I go horizontal and drop like a rock back-first on the sidewalk.
I blink dumbly up at the grey, overcast sky.
The old lady doesn’t come to check on me. I don’t blame her. She’s probably shaken up and thinks I’m a nut.
My teammates don’t, either. I lift my head, and they’re nowhere to be found. They probably turned a corner ahead of me while my pace slowed as I was gawking at Carmen.
But someone does swim into my vision, concern furrowed on their face.
Concern furrowed onherface.
“Jamie, are you okay?” It’s not just concern in Carmen’s voice. There’s a heavy trace of befuddlement. This is the second time this week I’ve looked like a total klutz in front of her.
Hearing my name on her voice removes any trace of discomfort I might otherwise be feeling right now.
“Oh, yeah. I’m perfectly fine. No problem.” I need to do something to erase the impression I’m making as a clumsy oaf.
I know. I’ll kip up to my feet. It’s a move I’ve perfected. A showy feat of athleticism will make me look less ridiculous in her eyes after that sorry display.
Still on my back, I pull my legs up and, in a flash of movement, kick them forward. The motion propels me upward, and I land on my feet …
Right onto a patch of ice.
As soon as I’m upright, the soles of my shoes slip, and I instantly fall flat on my face this time.
“Jamie!” Carmen yelps.
With embarrassment spiraling through me, I just turn to her with the stupidest smile plastered on my face and give her a thumbs-up sign. “All good. No need to worry.”
Carmen stares at me for a long beat of time with her jaw slack and her eyebrows high … and then a peal of laughter leaps from her mouth.
A warm feeling expands behind my chest as my ears feast on the sound.
My smile pulls higher as I watch her face while she laughs. The never-seen crinkles at the edges of her pretty eyes. The way her brow scrunches in something other than frustration or annoyance. Her cheeks bunched up with just the slightest tinge of rose. The curve of her pink mouth.
A feeling of awe swells through me. This must be the kind of sheer wonder that the first person who ever saw Michelangelo’s David felt when it graced his presence.
I wish I knew why she doesn’t smile or laugh much. And I really, really wish I knew how to be the guy to fix that.
“Sorry,” she says, covering her mouth. “I shouldn’t laugh.”
Yes, you should. All the time. I’d do anything to make that happen. Fall down and crash into things until I didn’t have abone left in my body to break if I had to. That’s what I want to say.
I push myself to my feet, this time without a disaster. “Nah, it’s cool. I probably looked hilariously ridiculous just then.”
She tilts her head and gives me a wry nod. It’s a strangely personal moment between us, and it makes my heart race.
